#flammarion

Down the Rabbit Hole, à la Française

This week, we tumble headfirst into Alice au pays des merveilles, the 1949 French edition of Lewis Carroll’s beloved Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, translated by Guy Trédez and illustrated by Adrienne Ségur, published in France by Flammarion. This edition transforms Carroll’s already dreamlike classic into something especially elegant, part storybook, part surreal fever dream, and entirely impossible to resist.

First published in 1865, Lewis Carroll’s original tale turned children’s literature delightfully upside down. Carroll, born Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (1832-1898), was a mathematician, logician, photographer, and writer whose fascination with logic puzzles and linguistic play shaped Wonderland into the gloriously nonsensical place we still recognize today. What makes Alice endure is its refusal to behave like a conventional moral tale. It wanders, questions itself, changes size without warning, and treats logic as something wonderfully unstable.

The translation by Guy Trédez carries Carroll’s story into French, where much of its wordplay necessarily shifts form. Alice is famously difficult to carry across languages intact, especially because so much of its humor depends on puns, wordplay, and shifting logic.

The illustrations are by Adrienne Ségur (1901-1981), one of the most celebrated French illustrators of the twentieth century. Ségur became known for her richly detailed fairytale imagery, particularly through her work for Flammarion’s Père Castor series and other finely produced children’s editions. Her style is unmistakable: delicate yet ornate, full of soft color, elaborate costuming, and an almost suspended, ethereal stillness.

Her Wonderland feels less chaotic than many English-language interpretations, less madcap nonsense and more gilded dreamscape. There is still strangeness here, of course, but it arrives wrapped in elegance, as though the White Rabbit might be late for a particularly fashionable Parisian engagement.

Viewed through the lens of mid-century French illustration, Carroll’s Wonderland takes on an entirely different atmosphere, softer, more ornamental, and somehow even more otherworldly. Because if Wonderland has taught us anything, it is that every journey down the rabbit hole looks a little different depending on who is telling it. 

--Melissa (who believes we’re all a little mad here) Distinctive Collections Library Assistant 

-View previous Fairytale Friday posts

new WoF OC! They're an astronomer, Sea/Sand/Night tribrid

Plain ref under cut

Manlio Brusatin, (1983), Histoire des couleurs, Foreword by Louis Marin, Flammarion, Paris, 1996

Et voilà… je l’ai lu.

Alors, j’ai vraiment adoré la première moitié, où l’on retrouve avec bonheur et jubilation les désormais familiers protagonistes habituels, Adamsberg, Retancourt, Verenc, Foisy, et les nouvelles recrues. Je me suis régalée des ralentissements rythmés (oui oui, Fred Vargas excelle dans ses ralentissements rythmés où la pensée se déploie, où les mots de déplient et révèlent leurs sens ou leurs connotations plus ou moins personnelles). Puis, peut-être un peu spoilée par une critique lourdaude, j’ai trouvé que le ralentissement se faisait vraiment lent (!) quant à l’émergence d’un élément clé de l’enquête que j’avais non pas deviné mais lu quelque part, et qui a fait que j’ai trouvé le cheminement trop long, étiré, poussé. Et j’ai commencé à trouver le temps un peu long, et l’enquête un poil trop linéaire.

J’ai donc malgré tout aimé l’ensemble du livre mais je ne sors pas dithyrambique comme je croyais que je serai dans les deux cents premières pages.

Ça reste un bon cru, et encore une fois, retrouver ces personnages comme des amis qu’on avait pas vus depuis longtemps, c’est précieux et rare.